


Dysphoria and Dark Magick

by malfoymoonrise (pinkandcurvy), pinkandcurvy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (yes im completely projecting on to him piss off), Anyways, Childhood Abuse, Drinking, FTM, M/M, Magical Drugs, Trans Draco, also ron's like that guy, and he's like ? on t ? but not transitioned bc theyre in the middle of a war lmao, and i always project onto draco so! here we go i guess, arent we all though, but hes also gay, draco's trans right, except he doesnt say get ur jush because hes a filthy hetero and madly in love w hermione, god hermione's so fucking beautiful, he's like 'i hate u but i dont care if u wanna benis ! get ur jush', idk what this is really i just need to vent, muggle drugs, she deserves so much love and happiness, so like, the one that like has the right heart but doesnt quite understand, uhh, uhhh, yknow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 03:09:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14227839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkandcurvy/pseuds/malfoymoonrise, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkandcurvy/pseuds/pinkandcurvy
Summary: Draco Malfoy - beautiful, elegant, tall, rich, perfect; these are all words that have been used to describe him, and most agree. However, there was more to this pale enigma than met the eye. Much, much more.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> hey !! uhhh this is bein written by a bi ftm boy so like . a lot of shit that draco feels is taken from personal experience. please leave comments!!! love uuuuu <3333

Draco groaned and rolled over onto his back, blinking rapidly to try to get used to the light flooding through his window. Given, it was filtered by the water on the other side, but the cold fall sunshine still found its way into his dorm room and past his eyelids. On a normal Saturday morning, he might've just spat some curses before casting a lazy room-darkening spell, but he knew he had to get up, if not for anything else then to do his shot. It wasn't often that Draco wished he was far enough along that he felt comfortable skipping his shot, but it happened from time to time - this was one of these times. Deep down, he knew he'd never truly be comfortable enough with his masculinity to skip a shot on purpose, however, a boy could hope.

Sluggishly, Draco rolled out of his bed, his feet curling as they came in contact with the cold floor. For probably the thousandth time he cursed how the Slytherin dorms had to be in the dungeons - the only good thing was the excessive room space, which, paired with his family's money and name, had scored him a single dorm room. He took a deep breath and reached into his bedside drawer, fishing out a fresh needle and a new bottle. His eyes traveled to the window, now used to the light, and he held his breath, studying the stillness of the deep blue water while he pushed down, a small hiss escaping between his teeth. No matter how many times he did his shot, it always pinched. A band-aid and some pants later, and Draco was padding around his room - topless - with a half-empty bottle of fire whiskey in hand. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand as he approached his silver-lined mirror. Draco's eyes locked on his form. His eyes ran over his body; his blonde, almost silver mop of bedhead, his similarly pale eyebrows that ran down to meet the bridge of his nose which was sharp and angular, like most of his body. Bones poked out under translucent skin, the only contrast being the blue of his veins. Draco was truly the definition of skin and bones, and yet.. His free hand came up to pinch his stomach, pulling the skin as far as it could go, and trailed up to his chest, his small but noticeable breasts firm and as pale as the rest of him bringing a scowl to his face. One of these days they'd be gone for good. All Draco had to do was resist the urge to chop them off himself. 

Tearing his gaze from the mirror, Draco swung open his closet door and pulled out his usual Saturday attire - black sweats and a loose muscle tank top, both marked with the Slytherin symbol - and redressed, slipping his binder on underneath of his tank top. Slipping, perhaps, isn't the correct term to use. Truthfully, he spent a good five minutes wrestling to fasten the hooks on the side, taking small breaks to scream into his bedsheets in frustration and to let his arms rest. It was a process. A long, obnoxious, stupid process, but it gave him a sense of accomplishment.

Pansy had asked him once why he didn't use magick to help him, and though the question had left him stumped for all of a week, it'd helped him figure out himself why he didn't. The answer was obvious once he truly thought about it: he didn't want it to be magickal. Draco wanted to be a genuine, authentic, self-made boy, not one created by magick and false sights. Of course, it'd help if his mother would just allow him to get them - his breasts - removed, but she was completely dead-set on waiting until he was eighteen in case Draco changed his mind and 'decided' to be her precious little girl again. Draco gagged a little at the thought. It was almost the only thing that his mother didn't try to take his side on - normally, it was Lucius penalizing and Narcissa comforting (or, he supposed, the closest she could get to comforting when she was constantly wrapped up in her own self-pity), so when Draco had refused to wear the pretty frilly dresses his mother had sewn him as a child, he hadn't expected the situation ot flip. He supposed it had to do with his father having wanted a son to begin with, but Draco chose to just hope that it was because deep down, somewhere in that harsh, cold, unfeeling heart of his, Lucius might feel some form of love or affection for his son.

A knock pulled Draco out of his thoughts, and after calling for whoever it was to come in, his mood instantly lifted when he saw it was Pansy, also clothed in comfortable and moveable attire. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"What's this? Am I being visited, nay, accompanied by the only Pansy Parkinson on my Saturday morning workout?" Draco exaggerated his pseudo-suprise in sarcasm, ignoring how Pansy merely flipped him off with a repressed smile, "And to what do I owe the honor?"

"I have permission to go to Hogsmeade with plus two, but Blaise's dad cut him off for the month and he's yet to find a new benefactor willing to pay for some rich kid's meals," she answered plainly, if not with a little mischief behind her words, "We're going to Three Broomsticks to celebrate my birthday, and you're treating me."

Draco's other eyebrow raised as well, but he just nodded, scoffing quietly. The game of 'who pays for what' was played by even the richest of students, and Draco, whether it was out of spite for his parents or care for his friends, always somehow ended up paying. It wasn't a bother or anything, since he was a trust-fund kid, after all, but sometimes he couldn't help but wonder if his friends would spend as much time with him if he didn't pay for so much. Rolling his eyes, Draco stuck his tongue out at Pansy, who was now pulling her sleek hair up into a ponytail. "Deal. But we're doing MY workout regimen today, not yours."

Draco could see Pansy's mischevious smirk fade to a pout, "Fine, whatever."

\---

"Drac - I gotta," Pansy struggled to catch her breath between words, "We gotta stop, I-" Trailing off, she stopped, bending over with her hands on her knees, and panted wildly. Draco wasn't much better off with his breath, each time he inhaled a small wheeze sounding in the back of his throat, but he didn't stop, instead he just kept jogging in place, forcing himself not to give up. "Why are-" Pansy coughed and squeezed her eyes shut, "Why do you run this much, damn." It was rhetorical, of course. They both knew why. "If you want to beat Potter, just fuckin', I don't know, buy another broom or invent one or something - cheat, lie, I don't care, just," with a sigh, she dropped to the turf, twisting her fingers in the grass, "Not this."

"Come on, Pansy, don't be a wuss," Draco breathed hard, trying his best not to let his voice tremble. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was scolding himself for wearing a binder to exercise, AGAIN, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. If there was one thing he'd never leave his dorm without, it was his binder. "It's just a little exercise. It's good for y- AH!" Letting out a yelp as Pansy swept his feet out from under him, Draco prepared for impact. Luckily for him, the turf had some sort of spell on it to make it so if anybody fell it would inflict the least amount of damage, but it was still startling.

Pansy clicked her tongue. "No, D, this isn't good for you. This is excessive." There was a pause, and though he hadn't moved from laying face first on the cold turf, Draco knew that Pansy was scrunching her nose and biting her lip - that's what she always did when she was worried. "You're not, like.. Getting bad again, are you?"

More silence. 

"Dray-"

"I'm doing good, Pansy," Draco pushed himself up to maneuver into a sitting position so he could look Pansy in the eyes. "I'm doing better, I promise."

She didn't believe him. She had every right and reason not to believe him, and she didn't believe him, and Draco /knew/ that. He could see it in the way she searched his face, her eyes boring into his. "Because if you are, you know you can talk to me, right?" Her voice was softer now, and she'd caught her breath, unlike Draco, who was still struggling with his. "I don't want to lose you again, D. Can you promise me that I won't?"

Draco sighed, his jaw clenching. Why was he so angry? Pansy was only looking out for him, he had no reason to be as upset as he was, especially since she was so undeniably right. He was spiraling again. For the past week he hadn't eaten more than 1,400 calories (actually, it'd been exactly 1,217 calories, he was counting), and most of it had come from liquids. Draco couldn't admit that though, not with Pansy staring at him with her dark, monolidded eyes. "I promise you won't lose me. Things are getting better, I'm getting better. I'm healthier now."

She still wasn't convinced. Neither of them were.

Pansy broke the tension with one of her signature mischevious grins, reaching out to slap Draco on the knee. "Great. Does this mean we can stop and go to Hogsmeade now?" 

Rolling his eyes, Draco stood, "Sure, whatever. I'm changing, though. There's no way in hell I'm going out in public looking like such a drowned sewer rat."


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco Malfoy - beautiful, elegant, tall, rich, perfect; these are all words that have been used to describe him, and most agree. However, there was more to this pale enigma than met the eye. Much, much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah, the first chapter's already got a ton of hits after just a few hours, thanks so much guys <33333

In the end, they'd both showered and changed, dragged Blaise forcefully out of his bed, and gotten down to the Three Broomsticks without much trouble. Pansy had had to notify Snape that they were leaving and how long they'd be gone, but the slip she'd gotten signed by Dumbledore (begrudgingly) eliminated any protest Snape might've had. Draco sighed as he slid into one of the booths, Blaise and Pansy sharing the other side, all three of them sighing in relief at the warmth of being inside of a building. Pulling off his grey and green scarf, Draco straightened his back and ignored how Blaise eyed him skeptically before mockingly following suit. Draco and Blaise's relationship was confusing, and most people didn't understand it - mostly, Draco scolded Blaise for being so vulgar and obnoxious while Blaise mocked him. It was a friendship that Draco hadn't imagined forming, ever, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to do without.

"Welcome to the Three Broomsticks, my name's Ella and I'll be serving you today. Can I get you anything to drink to start off with?" The waitress, Ella, smiled warmly.

They'd visited often enough that Draco knew immediately what Pansy and Blaise would want - they always got the same thing around this time of year. "Could we get a mug of pumpkin juice, warmed, and two cups of bubble juice?" A floating pen and scribbled down their orders on its matching pad of paper and Ella nodded, her smile persisting. It was a relatively dry day, only a few more booths being occupied. Draco could hear faint whispering from the booth back-to-back with theirs, but he didn't think much of it, assuming that it was just an old couple that enjoyed privacy or something."So," folding his hands in his lap, Draco turned his gaze to Blaise, "Why'd you get cut off this time? Did you get caught with more muggle drugs?" The flash of pure annoyance behind Blaise's eyes told Draco that he'd guessed right.

"It's so stupid, honestly," Blaise huffed, "It's not like I'm out snorting magical powders or anything, it's just a little pot. It's not even bad for me." Pansy mumbled in agreement and Draco pursed his lips. 

Personally, he'd never tried any drugs aside from his prescription, but he'd heard enough from the other Slytherins to know who he could get it from if he ever craved any. Much to his surprise, most of the dealers in the school had turned out to be Hufflepuffs with a few Ravenclaws scattered in. "You're lucky Snape doesn't do regular room checks. If he found out that you were using on school grounds-" Draco whistled quietly and raised his eyebrows, "Say bye-bye to your track record." Ella returned to set their drinks down in front of them and Pansy gulped down half of her bubble juice without hesitation as Blaise blew gently on his steaming pumpkin juice. Draco ordered their food - fish and chips for Blaise, the smoked chicken platter for Pansy, and a garden salad with corn on the side for himself. Every time they visited Draco was reminded of their lack of vegetarian options, so though he didn't really enjoy their garden salad, he didn't have many options.

"Oh, could I get a slice of apple pie, as well? Blaise, Draco, do you guys want any dessert? Another slice of apple pie," Pansy rolled her eyes at Draco's refusal to choose a dessert, "He'll have a slice as well."

"Alright, will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you," Draco interjected before Pansy had a chance to add anything on. "Pans, I love you almost as much as I love the apple pie here, but there's no way in hell I'm going to be able to keep all of that food down, not if I want to get some Quidditch practice in before dinnertime," sighing and leaning back, he cut his friend off before she had time to retort with something about how he'd already worked out this morning, "We have a game on Tuesday against Ravenclaw and I'm really not in the mood to lose against them."

The conversation about Quidditch continued until their food arrived, Blaise bragging about how they were going to demolish Ravenclaw and break the age-old tie once and for all while Pansy pretended to care and groomed her nails. She was an excellent broom rider and would've probably been on the team had it not been for her lack of motivation - her interests lied in academics more than sports. The topic of next week's Gryffindor/Slytherin match loomed over their conversation, only revealing itself when Blaise mentioned their last match when Draco had been nailed square in the thigh by a bludgeon that'd been shot by one of their own beaters as a form of reprimand for losing sight of the snitch. Draco still had yellow and purple discoloring up to his hip reminding him of the impact.

"I'm surprised they're letting you play this upcoming game, considering," Blaise shoved a handful of chips into his mouth, eating noisily and breathing through his nose. Draco clenched his fists around his fork - if there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was loud eating. "See, Malfoy? Even when you're injured you're too valuable to replace," deep down, Draco knew that Blaise was being kind and encouraging, but the compliment only made him more anxious. What if he wasn't able to live up to that? What if he lost a match again and they kicked him off the team? What if-

Draco cut his thought process off, instead opting to stare angrily at his salad. "Stupid, fucking-" He stabbed the salad violently, his fork making a loud clang as it hit his plate. "The only reason I'm any good at all is because of all of the years of training my father forced me through before I came here. Training is no match for natural talent," he'd never admit to anybody aside from Pansy or Blaise that he found stupid fucking Golden-Boy-Potter talented, let alone more so than himself. Draco had a track record of being prideful and cocky, and he wasn't about to lose that because of Potter's annoyingly good genetics. "I'd love to be able to destroy Potter ruthlessly-"

Pansy interrupted, smirking, "Are you sure you don't want him to destroy you?"

"Shut up!" Draco threw a piece of cucumber at Pansy's head, his eyes darting around anxiously, "You're disgusting, oh my god. What if somebody heard you?" Groaning, Draco pushed his food away from him and flipped off Blaise, who was practically choking with quiet laughter. "I was drunk when I told you that, it /so/ doesn't apply. You can't hold things against me that I say when I'm that far gone, Pansy."

"What can't I hold against you?" Raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow, Pansy's smile grew, "The time you told me you wanted Potter to pin you against a wall and fu-"

"PARKINSON!" Draco jumped at the volume of his own voice and immediately apologized to the stunned staff and few customers that he'd frightened. He could hear the people in the booth behind him whispering louder now, the occasional laugh thrown in. "You can't just.. We're in public, what if somebody heard you?" Shaking his head in annoyance, Draco downed his glass of bubble juice in one swift motion. He wished it was one of the bottles of fire whiskey he had hidden under his bed back at Hogwarts. "Like I said, I was drunk, and nobody-" he pointed a slender finger at Pansy, "Nobody needs to hear a single word that was said that night."

The conversation was dropped after that, moving on to some new rumors that Pansy had heard about Dean and Seamus being caught in one of the hallway's alcoves. Blaise seemed to find this interesting enough to listen to as he devoured his own apple pie and then a few bites of Draco's - Draco had offered it to him, and he'd graciously accepted, but Pansy had swatted his hand away after the first few bites, threatening Draco with her death glare before forcing him to eat it. By the time all of them had finished and Draco had added the meal to his tab, Draco was miserably weighed down by his food. He'd eaten half of his salad before Pansy had grossed him out too much for him to finish it, which was around fifty calories since he hadn't used any sauce, and all of his corn, which had been sixty calories, plus a few for the pepper he sprinkled over it. Bubble juice was calorie free, thankfully. Draco knew he shouldn't be adding these numbers and caring about them, but it was a habit that he knew would break him before he could break it. As the trio were walking out of the door, Draco glanced back in curiosity to see if he'd been right about the people behind them being some old, private couple. Much to his shock, however, he'd been very wrong. Three Gryffindors, the ever-annoying Golden Trio sat, talking - it appeared that they'd casted a quieting charm of some sort, because it was clear to see that when the Weasel threw his head back in laughter at something Potter had said, it was a loud enough laugh to cause another ruckus, but it was barely audible. 

Draco felt any blood he'd had in his cheeks drain from his face and his expression fell. He suddenly felt extremely nauseous. What if they'd heard what Pansy had been saying? Just as Draco could feel his palms begin to shake, something must've drawn the hamster-looking girl, Hermione, to look over, because their eyes met. Her face was expressionless save a small, knowing smile. "Shit," Draco turned away as quickly as he could and began shoving his friends out the door despite Blaise's protests at not having his gloves on yet.

\---

Draco hissed as he reached around to unhook his binder, his muscles screaming in protest. He'd overworked himself and he knew it - the amount of times he'd fallen off of his broom because of sloppy flips or knocked into the bleachers were innumerable, he was sure, and he'd refused to stop until the Slytherin prefect came out and told him that dinner was being served in five minutes. Technically, Draco wasn't supposed to be practicing without his team and without staff supervision, so he didn't want to risk somebody noticing his absence at dinner only to find him breaking the rules (again), especially not a few days before the match, so he came inside with no protest. 

Peeling his sweat-soaked clothes from his frame, the small boy wished he'd come in with enough time to take a cold shower before so he didn't have to enter the dining hall looking like a drowned, harrassed rat that smelled like teenage B.O. Oh, well. Lord knew the Gryffindor's did it enough. Draco scowled at the thought of them. Had they heard what Pansy had said? Or was Hermione just being a cryptic little asshole and trying to put Malfoy off his game - he hadn't thought of that yet. If Potter found out about what Draco had confessed to Pansy.. Draco would have to start a new life, he was sure of it. He'd denounce his Malfoy name, move out into the middle of nowhere, adopt an endless supply of cows and live off of the land. Draco straightened his tie as he considered it - he could do it, of course, he had the funds, and if it weren't for pure fear of what his father would do the Draco probably would, given the chance. However, he wasn't particularly looking to be ripped into tiny, disowned shreds by Lucius. Draco felt sure that his world would collapse around him if anybody - ANYBODY - found out what he'd told Pansy. It wasn't even true! He didn't want Potter to- a shiver ran down his spine. Just the thought of it made him repulsed.

The great hall was already nearly full when he walked in, but there were usually some late arrivals, and people were too busy waiting for their food to notice him anyway, so he strutted over to his usual spot between Crabbe and Pansy. It was awkward, for lack of a better word, to sit next to Crabbe at the moment, since they' weren't really on good terms at the moment. Draco had yelled at him just last week because he'd said some bullshit about hoping Granger would off herself, and Crabbe and Goyle had both been ignoring him and throwing him dirty looks since. It hurt, truthfully. Crabbe and Goyle may have been complete half-witted arseholes, but they were his half-witted arseholes and he missed being able to complain about everything with them. Sure, Pansy and Blaise were wonderful and Draco loved them as well, but he'd grown up being playmates with the other two, they'd known each other since birth, and their parents before them had known each other even longer. 

"Twelve O'clock, there's an ugly rat staring you down," Pansy didn't even bother to whisper, disdain dripping from every syllable she uttered. Figuring it was probably the Weasel (as per usual), Draco immediately looked towards where the famous Golden Trio normally sat, and sure enough, Weasley was glaring at him as he was chugging whatever was in his glass, almost as if challenging him. Draco rolled his eyes and scoffed. What a loser. "You'd think those Gryffin-dumbarses would have something better to do."

"Something better? Than me?" Trying to look as offended as he possibly could, Draco gasped, "There is no such thing." The two of them snickered quietly as Draco tried to push down his anxiety - Hermione's stomach-wrenching smile of knowledge still had him unsettled, so he was overly on guard.

"Don't get too cocky, Malfoy," Pansy imitated McGonagall's shrill voice, turning her nose up and raising her eyebrows, earning herself some laughs from their surrounding Slytherins, including Draco. There'd always been something about McGonagall that'd rubbed him the wrong way - perhaps it was how much she favored the Gryffindors over everybody else (although he didn't really have much room to speak, what with Snape being very much so protective and biased towards the Slytherins) - and it seemed to affect his peers relatively similarly.

Suddenly, Draco hissed, a pain shooting through his left forearm and straight to his head, that of which was now throbbing in pain. He turned to look at Pansy only to find that she had a similar look of bewilderment and pain creasing her brows, as did Blaise and several other Slytherins - It wasn't... Could it be? Refocusing his gaze on his arm, Draco rolled up his sleeve, ignoring all of the scars, instead to look at his Dark Mark. It was dangerous to have it out in school like this, but he had to know - was this the Dark Lord trying to communicate? There was nothing else it could be. Any doubt was shoved from Draco's mind as he stared at his arm in shock, the black, enchanted ink that stung his skin moving slowly, slythering, much like a snake. It sent shivers down his spine. He was only pulled out of his trance by a strong and startling grip on his arm, clearly Pansy's, followed by sharp nails pulling down his sleeve.

"Are you fucking crazy?!" Pansy hissed, leaning in close, "Do you want to get us expelled? Or fucking killed? Keep that thing away until we get back to the dorms!"

With a gulp, Draco nodded, staring blankly at the table in front of him. He'd eaten more than enough at lunch anyways, and he doubten he could stomach any food after whatever.. that was.


End file.
